Sometimes she thinks about a Natalia Alianovna that got to grow up normal, a young woman whose mother carefully walked her through how to use makeup at an appropriate age, who fought with her father over curfew and spoke at his retirement dinner, a girl with friends and boyfriends who smiled and joked and argued. She thinks long and hard about this imaginary woman and her imaginary friends, but every time, she thinks that maybe she would not want to be that woman.

Clint Barton would never smile at that woman the way he smiles at her.